Lost in Space, Cliche in 5: Amethyst Little Fish
by ALC Punk
Summary: Stargate: SG-1 meets Farscape. The Uncharted Territories may never be the same again. It all started one sleepy afternoon on Moya.... where I retcon Bad Timing and Affinity and ignore many things. bits were written by A.j.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Ahem. Not mine. HOWEVER. SG-1 belongs to one company. Farscape belongs to another. John Crichton's balls belong to Aeryn Sun. No money is being made from this (not even Kelownan currency). Thank you, good night.  
Rating: R. Violence. Sex. Foul language.  
Setting/Spoilers: for Farscape, all of it including Bat Timing except for the last five minutes. For Stargate, all of it up to current continuity. Pairings: John/Aeryn, Sam/Jack, all others are up for grabs.  
  
Lost in Space (A Cliche in Five Parts)  
by Ana Lyssie Cotton  
  
Chapter One: Amethyst Little Fish  
  
"Captain!"  
  
Pilot's voice dragged them all from their contemplation of dinner.  
  
"Report, Pilot," D'Argo commanded.  
  
"There is an intruder on board."  
  
It was amusing, John Crichton decided as they all trooped out of the center chamber, how fast they all could pull their guns. One of these days, he really should time them. There was D'Argo, for instance, tall and beefy and Luxian-er than thou, qualta blade at the ready, tentacles twitching. Aeryn was next, her pulse pistol held in a confident and steady grip as her battle-trained reflexes scanned the immediate surrounding area. He'd been surprised that Chiana was now rarely far behind, her small pistol fitting her strangely twitchy grip gracefully. John himself was right behind her, his own pulse pistol waiting for a target to point at. Rygel rarely bothered with guns, but his dinner knife was gripped in a suddenly stiff hand (as if waiting for flesh to present itself for carving). Stark, on the other hand, continued eating. And Granny... well, Noranti merely cocked her head and watched the rest of them with something that could have been amusement.  
  
"Where?"  
  
"Low tier, hammond-side."  
  
"Right." D'Argo looked at them, "John, Aeryn, take the right, Chiana and I will take the left--"  
  
"And we meet in the middle. Gotcha, D."  
  
"I shall come along," announced Noranti. She strode forward, a rather musty stench wafting in front of her, "I shall be needed after all." Her eyes shifted, "She is so..."  
  
"Right. Granny, you're with Aeryn and me."  
  
Sometimes, it still amazed John that Moya was a living ship. The organic walls, the subtle murmurings, the heartbeat that you could feel in your bones. Livvy had called him on it, at one point. Something about him having lost his sense of wonder. She'd said it almost sadly. He didn't like thinking of his recent visit to Earth. Not now, at least.  
  
He and Aeryn got to the junction first, and waited for D'Argo's whispered command.  
  
Then they all sprang out of hiding, weapons leveled.  
  
It was kind of pitiful, really, he thought. The woman couldn't have posed a threat if she'd tried. She was covered in blood, dark patches of her green fatigues shiny with it. At least one arm was broken, and he could see the bone poking out, white and gleaming.  
  
"Don't think she's gonna hurt anyone," John announced into the silence.  
  
Granny shoved past him, "Oh dear, oh dear. So much damage, so little time to fix it in, so much time to gain wisdom."  
  
"She's human," D'Argo said, slowly sliding his qualta blade back into its sheath.  
  
"How do you get that?"  
  
"The patches." He pointed to the two bright scraps of fabric on the woman's shoulders. "Look Earthy, to me."  
  
"Ah." One of them was the American flag, John realized. The other was some circle motiff with a pyramid. He thought. "Interesting." He holstered Wynona and went to kneel next to the woman. For she was a woman, he'd guessed from her build, but Granny had slit open her jacket, and there were womanly... bumps. Breasts. Damn, he was so 13.  
  
A sickening crack echoed in the corridor, and John flinched. Noranti clicked her tongue. "That's better. Bones need to be straight to mend."  
  
"Gosh, Granny. Think you could warn us next time?" It was a good thing the blonde woman was unconscious.  
  
"If she's not a threat, can we move her?" Aeryn still sounded calm and collected.  
  
John glanced up at her, for a moment distracted and just taking in the sight of the woman that he would move (or go through) heaven and hell to keep. Her eyes met his, and he saw them soften slightly. "Hey."  
  
"Must finish binding, then medical." A distracted Noranti said, her hands moving here and there.  
  
"She's--she's dressed like a military." Chiana said, her tone uncertain. Or perhaps she was hiding what she felt by pretending to be uncertain. Frequently, now, John sensed the Nebari girl hiding more and more of herself. He kind of guessed she got it from him. And Aeryn, of course, was the queen of hiding her emotions.  
  
"Yeah." John began searching the pockets of the vest Noranti had cut off the woman. Given the way she was laying there, Crichton was beginning to think she'd been thrown against the wall, then hit the deck. Which was strange, since there wasn't any way for that to occur. Not, of course, that her even being there was logical. But he had long found that logic worked very little in the Uncharted Territories. And not at ALL in Tormented Space.  
  
"Stop that." Granny smacked at his hands. "She doesn't need people poking and prying."  
  
"Just tryin' to find out who she is, Granny."  
  
"Colonel Carter." The irrepressible old woman snapped before returning to bandaging the line of slashes in the woman's torso.  
  
"Huh. Don't know her."  
  
"I need blood."  
  
He blinked, "Uh, Granny, not sure any of us can help you, there."  
  
"Yours should do fine. At least I think." And she suddenly began muttering about humans and their stupid physiologic limitations.  
  
"Blood type should be on her dog tags." He should SO have remembered those. A quick check showed that Lt. Col. Carter, Sam had A- blood. Good. So did he. "Right, Granny, hook us up."  
  
"Not here. We need to move to more stable surroundings. Blankets. And soup."  
  
"Soup would be good," announced Rygel. "More food is always a plan."  
  
"Ah, Sparky, you never change." He really couldn't fault the little Hynerian rat bastard.  
  
A groan came from the woman on the floor, and her eyes flickered.  
  
He found himself staring into impossibly bright blue eyes. "Hey, Colonel. Take it easy there, ma'am."  
  
"Daniel..." Her voice trailed away, her eyes closing as the pain dragged her back under.  
  
"No, actually, that's my dead best friend," he muttered. "Granny, can we move her yet?"  
  
"Yes." The old woman stood, stretching. "One of you strong men needs to carry her."  
  
It wasn't, John decided a moment later, that Sam Carter looked large. She just looked tiny, all crumpled there on the deck. Until you realized that she was really damn tall. D'Argo ended up carrying her.  
  
-  
  
D'Argo wasn't happy about their new passenger. "How the hell did she get on Moya?"  
  
"I don't know. Pilot," John called, "Were there any ships in this vicinity?"  
  
"No, Commander. Although, Moya's sensors detected something that was like wormhole activity."  
  
"But we closed the warren near here. Shut them all down a week ago."  
  
"Yes. Still, Moya believes that is where she came from." The voice paused, then continued, the tone worried, "Moya also feels worried for this woman. I do not understand this, Commander."  
  
"Well, at least she has a better entrance than most of us."  
  
"Oh, yes," D'Argo said dryly, "She didn't sneak on board, she wasn't a prisoner, and she didn't get frozen."  
  
"You forgot hi-jacked," Aeryn said, her voice amused.  
  
"Right, right."  
  
"Crichton." Granny was suddenly tugging at his arm. "I need your blood now."  
  
Rolling his eyes, but complying, John muttered, "Vampires. They never let you get dinner."  
  
-  
  
Memory swam through her in starts and stops. The beginning was a mountain, the end was also a mountain, though this one seemed to be sitting on her chest. Breathe in. Breathe out. Pain centered and flexed through her muscles.  
  
"Like old times, Eh, Carter?"  
  
The General's voice had been amused and sardonic. She'd turned to him, turned to mock him or laugh, or something. But they were all five stepping into the event horizon and so she held her tongue. She could snark at him on the other side.  
  
She couldn't remember, currently, the planet designation.  
  
Had they made it there?  
  
She couldn't tell. Sam Carter focused on the fuzziness in her brain and pushed against it. There had been a flicker, at one point. Consciousness. Blue eyes... Daniel. But not Daniel, she remembered. Maybe.  
  
Confusion.  
  
Pain.  
  
"Not supposed to wake yet," a soft voice murmured in irritation. "Supposed to sleep for arns."  
  
There were other voices, less soft, more annoying. Accents and words that grated against her flayed nerves. "English, Daniel," she croaked. Just her luck. Their luck. A planet where only Daniel could speak to the natives. This happened far too often, damn it.  
  
"Hey." This voice was male, and seemed to be nice. "You're safe here."  
  
"You're not Daniel." She said, still refusing to open her eyes. Daniel...  
  
"Well, no. I'm John."  
  
"Nice to meet you, John." She moved, opening her eyes and taking in the dark-haired man leaning over her. "Where--where's Daniel? Teal'c?" She winced as the pain in her side suddenly woke up, "And Jonas." Her eyes widened. "The General. Where's my team?"  
  
"Sorry, darlin'. You came through alone."  
  
"Alone--no. Oh, god, no." It was too big to contemplate. Too much pain all at once, the physical, the emotional. Sam Carter wasn't often given to fainting and running away from her problems. But right now? Right now, she welcomed the darkness that swallowed her whole.  
  
-  
  
"Team?" John blinked, staring down at the now unconscious woman. "Pilot, are there any other people on board?"  
  
"No Commander."  
  
"Yeah." He continued staring down at the hand wrapped around his. "Didn't think so."  
  
She hadn't been supposed to wake up when Granny hooked them together. But she had, and those blue eyes had stared at him and demanded things. And had then filled with such fear and pain he'd wondered what she'd do in Scorpy's favorite chair. Better than you did, mocked the voice inside his head.  
  
"Hey, Grandma."  
  
"Hrm?" Canny grey eyes looked at him.  
  
"She gonna wake up again anytime soon?"  
  
"No. The drugs in her system should keep her down for several arns, this time." She frowned, "She shouldn't have been able to wake."  
  
"And you would know all about drugs." He was pretty sure he was mocking her.  
  
"Yes. I would. Time to disconnect you."  
  
"She's very pretty." Chiana whispered, her hand sliding through the short-cropped blonde hair. "I think... I think we should keep her."  
  
Now there was a discussion for a later date. After they found out she was evil, or something.  
  
"Clothes off, now." Granny announced.  
  
John moved, determined not to let Granny cut the Colonel's pants off. "Here, I'll get her pants. And, no, Rygel, you can't have her boots."  
  
"I wasn't even dreaming about it," the Hynerian lied.  
  
"Riight. Chi."  
  
"Yup?"  
  
"Don't steal from her bags, and leave the weapons on the side."  
  
The Nebari girl rolled her eyes and went back to smoothing a hand delicately through the blonde hair.  
  
With careful movements, John unbuckled the belt and pants, then slid them down the woman's legs. The skin revealed was as mottled black and blue as her upper body. Damn, but she'd been knocked around.  
  
"All of you, shoo!" Noranti waved her hands, then pointed at Chiana. "You. Stay for a bit, then shoo."  
  
"Right, Grandma." Patting the strange woman on her shoulder, John turned away. He folded the pants and belt and boots together, settling them on top of her pack.  
  
-  
  
Sam Carter didn't sleep through more than two hours before waking. And this time she was more alert. "Crichton, I require you as translator."  
  
"Aw, Granny," he paused in playing with Aeryn's hair, "Can't you just inject her with translator microbes?"  
  
"I'm worried they might cause an adverse reaction with her immune system this depleted."  
  
"Fine, fine..."  
  
Aeryn poked him in the arm. "You are coming back to bed, aren't you?"  
  
"Oh, yeah, baby." He leered.  
  
She snickered, "Go. Tend to Noranti's patient. I'll be here."  
  
"Thank god for that."  
  
Sam Carter was sitting up when he arrived, her back propped with an empty crate and half a dozen pillows.  
  
"Ask her why she's awake," Granny demanded.  
  
"Uh..." It occurred to John that Noranti should know English. He eyed her, but shrugged, and turned to their newest guest. "So. Granny wants to know why you're awake."  
  
"Shouldn't I be?"  
  
Okay. He understood this, really. She was wary and guarded and not about to give any of her secrets away. He wondered how long he would have to work to earn her trust, then decided he didn't care. "Look, I'll spell it out for you. You're injured, we don't know you, you don't know us, none of your 'team' arrived with you, and we're not really sure how you got here. We could have let you die, or dumped you out into deep space. All I want to know is why you seem to be immune to Granny's drugs. It's a simple request."  
  
"Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter." Her uninjured hand was held out. She met his eyes, waiting. He could see something like uncertainty in them.  
  
He slowly shook the hand, "John Crichton. Astronaut."  
  
"Ah." Something flickered in her eyes. Not recognition, but something else. "I always wanted to go to the stars."  
  
"So did I. When I wasn't pissed at my dad for leaving us."  
  
A slight smile touched her lips. "Now we know a little bit about each other. My... resistance to drugs varies. And it's classified, although I can tell you that there seems to be no set pattern." She grimaced. "Makes life really interesting."  
  
"'Kay. Classified, huh?" He waved at the medical bay, "Honey, you're on a ship in the middle of Tormented Space. I think you should re-think how classified works."  
  
"Can't. And..." She stared around the room, then looked back at him. "I'm in space? I've never heard of Tormented Space."  
  
"It's this little known sector that borders the edge of the Uncharted Territories." She was taking the whole being stuck in space thing really well. They'd have to talk about that. But later.  
  
"Ah." Her head bent down and she sighed. "I'm not really sure how I got here. There was... There was so much pain." Her voice dropped to a whisper, "Pulling and ripping and tumbling. And then I was here. And the others..."  
  
"Are not." Tumbling. Pulling. Damn, that sounded almost familiar. He shook his head. "What's the last thing you remember before the pain?"  
  
"General O'Neill being a smartass."  
  
John blinked. "I didn't think generals knew how."  
  
"He's a very...special man." A smile touched her lips.  
  
And he was. He was also something else. John had seen the same look in his own eyes when he'd stared in the mirror. Pride and love and dependance and need. It was a subtle thing, and it was only there for a second. If she hadn't been worried about her entire team, it probably wouldn't even have shown. John was swiftly beginning to like this woman. And to wonder where the hell she came from.  
  
"Uh, look, you haven't ever heard of me, have you?"  
  
"No. Should I have?"  
  
"John Crichton? Commander of the Farscape? IASA?"  
  
All three questions left her with a completely blank look, "No. Sorry. Never heard of any of that. It's not classified, is it?"  
  
"No, no... Just... Hrm." Unrealized reality. Which meant-- "You came through a wormhole."  
  
She looked surprised, suddenly cautious. "Yes."  
  
"Look, on my Earth, there aren't wormholes or anything, so you have to come from--"  
  
"Another dimension." she was nodding."Quantum mechanics and inter-dimensional theory. That's why I don't know you. We must have..." A frown deepened her brow. "I don't know how a quantum mirror could have caused the destablization effect, though. And the speed at which I exited the wormhole coupled with the loss of the rest of SG-1..."  
  
"Stable wormholes?" Wait. WAIT. Something clicked in his head. "You travel through stable wormholes, in this alternate universe?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Oh. Okay. This sounds really hokey and not quite right," and he was so wondering if he could trust her, but there was an edge of pent-up geekery in her that reminded him of himself when he'd first come aboard Moya. "I think... I think it's my fault you're here."  
  
"How?"  
  
"All wormholes are inter-connected, all universes are inter-connected in there. I know, I've seen it. And it ain't pretty."  
  
"Okay. Say you're right. How does that explain how I got here and the rest of them didn't?"  
  
"I think..." Now came the difficult part. "I collapsed the nearest entrance to a wormhole. It went from here to Earth. I think that caused some sort of fracture in the entire network."  
  
She had gotten paler, he noticed, her eyes darkening with something that could be anger. "Oh, god. You idiot."  
  
"Didn't have much of a choice, there was a Scarran battle cruiser on the way to conquer my Earth."  
  
"I'm sorry." Her eyes closed, and she seemed to slump. "They could be anywhere. Anytime. Any fucking world or universe."  
  
"There's worse," he said, carefully. "I don't think I can get you home."  
  
Sam Carter's blue eyes opened and regarded him steadily for a moment. "Thank you for offering."  
  
"I--"  
  
"Look, this is... This is a lot to process. Do you have anything like aspirin on board?" She grimaced. "Now that, uh, Doc's meds have worn off completely, I hurt."  
  
"Yeah. Yeah I think we do."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
- 


	2. Flown to Malibu

Disclaimers and such on Chapter One.  
Lost in Space (A Cliche in Five Parts)  
by Ana Lyssie Cotton Chapter Two: Flown to Malibu  
  
No way home. And no way of finding the rest of her team. On some level, Sam knew she was utterly fascinated and intrigued with this wormhole theory of John Crichton's. Inter-connected networks of wormholes. Like the internet. A slight smile touched her lips as she remembered Daniel being the one to first compare it to the telephone system. Daniel, who was now lost somewhere along with the General, Teal'c, and Jonas. Damn.  
  
And no pain killers, either. Unfortunately. She grimaced.  
  
This was just shaping up to be the best week ever. Not.  
  
First off, on Monday she'd had a talk with Pete. And they'd mutually agreed to break it off.  
  
Then Jonas had shown up, all bouncy and raring to go on some diplomatic mission.  
  
And while Sam liked the Kelownan, when he was bouncy, he was... scary.  
  
Of course, then General O'Neill had decided he wanted a vacation from running the SGC, and had insisted on coming with them. And now all hell had broken loose, and she'd been sent sideways in time to an alternate universe.  
  
And there weren't even any cookies in it for her.  
  
The facetiousness could be laid solely at General O'Neill's door, she decided. Pity he wasn't there to be glared at.  
  
Damn.  
  
She looked down at herself, grimaced at the splinted arm. It was going to hurt soon. The abraded skin on her side already hurt. Wistfully, she wondered what Dr. Brightman would have given her for the pain. Morphine sounded really damn good. Even if it meant days spent in the infirmary with an IV firmly strapped to one vein.  
  
A breath of sound drew her eyes towards the door, and she blinked. There was a woman standing there, her body canted oddly. As if her spine had less or more bits than a normal spine. Of course, she was also grey, with white hair and dark eyes.  
  
"Um. Hi?"  
  
"Hey." The woman moved into the room, almost gliding, carefully skirting the end of the bed and came to stand next to Sam. She reached out a hand and poked her in the shoulder.  
  
"Ow."  
  
"You, uh..." The voice stopped, then started, and a babble of sounds broke out.  
  
Sam blinked. "I'm sorry, I can't understand you."  
  
"Oh. Damn. Er... be right back!"  
  
Stopping herself before she shrugged, Sam waited. The woman returned in a moment with a small round robot. It reminded her of a remote control car. She vaguely remembered having seen another one, earlier. It had been yellow. This one was painted red, white and blue.  
  
"1812." The woman said, then pointed at Sam's free arm.  
  
Sam held out her hand, uncertain what the girl wanted, and a small syringe darted out and nicked the flesh of her wrist. "Ow!"  
  
The woman spoke again, her tone obviously explaining, and suddenly, Sam could understand her. "--them to you, but I don't see how it could hurt."  
  
"Huh?"  
  
"The translator microbes."  
  
"I can understand you." Ooo, understatement of the century, Carter. Well, aside from mentioning that Ba'al was a snappy dresser.  
  
"Yup." The girl struck a pose, grinning, "I'm Chiana."  
  
"Sam."  
  
They studied each other for a minute, and Sam was strangely reminded of Cassie. Then the girl shifted, "Tell me about where you come from."  
  
-  
  
Sam Carter had been on Moya for two days, John thought, and already she was getting a taste of being a crew member on the USS Buttcrack. For the first day, she'd slept. And Noranti had discovered that one of her special pastes was rapidly healing the break in the Colonel's arm. She'd been bubbly about that, and claimed to have rediscovered some hitherto unknown catalyst in human blood. Or something like that. John hadn't listened too closely beyond deciding that it would be okay for Sam to wander around Moya--with the proviso that Chiana had to accompany her and keep her safe. She and Chiana had apparently hit it off when he wasn't watching. (the whole having sex with Aeryn thing having been a distraction).  
  
A fist slammed into his jaw and he went to the floor before the owner could hit him again. "I repeat. WHERE is the Hynerian fekik?"  
  
"Not here."  
  
It had been a long time since John had had a decent laugh. Finding out that someone was actually stalking Sparky--had a lot of money out for his blood, even--was almost enough to make him giggle. Almost. Aeryn and D'Argo were dragged into the cell. Stark looked up from his corner and gibbered a happy sound before going back to fidgeting with the nap of his clothing. Or whatever the hell Stark did when he was trying not to go insane.  
  
John was of half a mind to knock the Banik out, but he figured he wouldn't have to. As long as he didn't give them away.  
  
"Maybe your companions will give us a better answer." The bounty hunter smiled, his grin almost toothless.  
  
It was unfortunate for them all that Stark suddenly jumped up. "Wait! I'll talk! I'll tell you where the little slug is! He owes me money, though, and I want my money first!"  
  
The bounty hunter smiled harder, "I believe we can come to some arrangement."  
  
John hoped it would include the man's death (if it was a man, he wasn't too sure about that) and dismemberment. But meanwhile, he would worry. They hadn't dragged Pip and Sam Carter in yet. Hopefully, the Colonel would keep her cool and they'd stay hidden until this had blown over. Not that John Crichton wanted to hand Rygel over to them. But it might save them a little trouble. And they could always mount a rescue.  
  
-  
  
"Look, the only reason we didn't run was they had a weapons lock on us, right?"  
  
"Yeah." Chiana didn't look convinced.  
  
Of course, Sam Carter herself wasn't convinced about this plan. It was a Jack O'Neill kind of plan. But then, Sam had been involved in Jack O'Neill kind of plans for more than eight years. She figured she'd picked up the knack for them by now. And if she hadn't, they really had nothing to lose anyway.  
  
"So, we do what I said."  
  
"Are you frelled?" Chiana demanded softly. "They'll catch us and kill us! I don't want to die just yet."  
  
"Been there, done that, forgot to buy the t-shirt." Yup. Definitely a Jack O'Neill kind of plan. "Can we get any information on where they are?"  
  
"Hang on. Hey, Pilot?"  
  
Pilot. The one crew member she had yet to fully meet. Crichton had made a crack about him not getting out much, earlier. "Yes, Chiana?"  
  
"You heard the lady. Any news?"  
  
"There are five of them total." Pilot's voice was very soft, he paused and gave a pained sound, "And they are talking about fitting me for a control collar. And Stark has told them where Rygel is. Three of them are searching for him while one is near the command and the other guards his prisoners."  
  
Control collar didn't sound good. "Can you stall them? Maybe... convince them you already have one, or something?" Oh, yeah. Channeling the General all right.  
  
"I can... try." Dry humor colored Pilot's voice. "And you are correct. If they had not had weapons, we would have run."  
  
"Instead, I get to blow them up." Sam didn't clap. It wasn't dignified (and might attract attention).  
  
"There is one other thing, Colonel Carter." Pilot seemed to hesitate, then he continued, "I believe they have another prisoner on board their ship. But he must be in a shielded compartment of some sort as I only got a vague impression when they were landing."  
  
"Hrm." Another prisoner. She considered, then shrugged, "Thanks, Pilot. We'll cross that bridge when we blow it up." Damn you, Jack O'Neill. "C'mon, Chiana, let's go poke around their ship."  
  
The girl shook her head, but adjusted the gun in her hand, "After you."  
  
Rolling her eyes, and being glad that her arm was almost healed (and she couldn't explain it any more than Noranti could, although she suspected it was some freaky thing to do with the way the translator microbes colonized at the base of the brain--something she'd almost freaked about--and Jolinar and the Steveston symbiote, and, well, her freaky body chemistry. Some day, she'd leave her body to science) and she could use it. They'd made a stop in one of the side-corridors, where Chiana had handed her two gun-things called pulse pistols. Point and shoot, she could do. Although she did kind of miss her P-90. And her zat.  
  
From what they could tell, these bounty hunters had personal body shields of some sort (which was how they'd over-whelmed Moya's crew in the first place). So the current plan was to reconnoiter their ship, sabotage its weapon systems, and then get them back aboard.  
  
And if plan A didn't work, Sam was fairly certain she could come up with a plan B.  
  
Damn, she needed C4. "Chiana." She breathed.  
  
The girl looked at her.  
  
"Explosives?"  
  
"Not in this section. Might be some on the ship."  
  
And they couldn't get back to the med-bay where her pack was. So, no C4. She almost pouted. Wait. She held up the pulse pistol. "These things have an overload setting?"  
  
"Mis-chamber a round, wait 300 microts, boom."  
  
Boom. "Good."  
  
Now she had a plan B.  
  
-  
  
Dr. Daniel Jackson had always hated being captured.  
  
For him, though, it was like something one did every month. Or bi-monthly. An occurance that generally included some bruising, some mocking, and Jack O'Neill or Sam Carter or Teal'c then rescuing him. There were variations, of course. Sometimes, he was held with those three. And other times, he wasn't the one captured (a rare occurance, although it was still amusing to get drunk and mock Sam for the Shavadai).  
  
Right now, though, he was wishing he knew where he was.  
  
According to his captors (who refused to listen to him), he was a man named John Crichton, highly prized by the Peacekeepers (whoever they were). Daniel had slowly worked this out of the words they were using (a strange mixture of sounds that reminded him of glottal stops, gaelic and french rolled into one).  
  
It wasn't an easy language to understand, although they seemed to understand him fine (something that was irritating to a master linguist).  
  
He'd been chained in worse places, of course. At least this one, they seemed to understand the need to keep a prisoner alive.  
  
There was a soft scuffling sound from nearby, and he shifted. The ship he was on had been silent for a while now while his captors stalked off to pick up another prisoner (this one something called a Hynerian Royal. Whatever that was). The sound came again, and the door to his cell slid open.  
  
A soft voice said something, then a girl glided in. Her skin was grey and her hair was white. Having seen one of his captors half-naked, and enough jaffa and goa'uld to last a lifetime (not to mention the whole dead for a year, and Jonas the Kelownan, thing) really gave one a perspective on things. Daniel decided she wasn't a halucination. "Sam. There's a Sebacean in here."  
  
"Peacekeeper?"  
  
Now there was a voice he recognized. If his lips hadn't been so cracked from lack of water (they believed in living prisoners, but hydration seemed a foreign concept to them) he would have smiled.  
  
"Looks like."  
  
"Damn." A familiar blonde head poked into the room and blue eyes stared at him, then froze in shock. "Daniel!"  
  
"Hey." he croaked.  
  
"Not a Peacekeeper." The grey girl said, voice amused.  
  
"Definitely not." Sam was holstering the gun in her left hand, the one in her right still held steady as she looked over her shoulder. "Come watch the door while I unchain him."  
  
"Right."  
  
They switched places and Sam holstered her other gun then inspected the chains on his wrists. She frowned. "These are simple, but..."  
  
"Hurry up."  
  
"Damn. Sorry, Daniel, you're going to have to stay chained up for a while." Turning her head, she hissed, "Chiana. Stay here with Daniel while I find that reactor."  
  
Again, the exchange of places.  
  
Daniel considered arguing, but Sam wouldn't leave him there to rot. There was probably some sort of alarm hooked up to the cuffs. He sighed, though, as she disappeared. It had been nice to see a familiar face. The grey girl carefully closed the door and leaned against the doorjamb, eyeing him.  
  
"So..."  
  
A smile touched her lips and she shook her head, holding a finger to them.  
  
"Oh." Damn. "Got any water?"  
  
-  
  
Two days on Moya, and already she was feeling like an intergalactic traveler. Okay, so she'd mostly already been one. Sam inspected the panels before her. This ship wasn't the organic, grown symbiosis that Moya seemed to be. It was more utilitarian and... grubby. There were pieces that looked like they didn't fit, and the whole thing had an air of being about to implode. Like the Millenium Falcon. "I should get out and push," she muttered softly. Then sighed.  
  
Damn, she needed to stop watching Star Wars with Teal'c.  
  
This had to be the engineering panel. She studied it for a moment, then frowned and reached for the tiny oval Chiana had given them earlier. It was smaller than her radio and she wondered if it was being monitored. A sigh escaped her. Expedience versus caution.  
  
"Chiana."  
  
"Yo."  
  
"Do you think we could use anything from this ship? Weapons, food, currency, that sort of thing?" After all, once it was blown up, they could discover they needed something from it desperately.  
  
A giggle came across, "You think like me and His Royal Irritatingness."  
  
"I don't care if that's good or bad. I'm being practical."  
  
"The answer is probably yes."  
  
"Fine." Sam looked around, "Scavenge on your level for a few minutes. I'll do the same down here."  
  
"Gotcha."  
  
It took her a minute to realize she wouldn't know what the hell to take, anyway. Oh, she could make guesses (8 years plus of alien technology gave you a good frame of reference, sometimes). But they might not be right. So she left that up to Chiana and went to work on the panel.  
  
The General, she mused as she poked through wires and bits and pieces and even something that looked suspiciously like gum, would be mocking her and asking her when she'd be done with her doohickey. Damn, she missed him. Well, more so now that she was stuck in something called Tormented Space in a quantum universe not her own (and, apparently there wasn't a Sam Carter here, because so far there hadn't been any Entrophic Cascade fits yet--although that might simply have to do with proximity, but she wasn't going to think about that, for now).  
  
Of course, given the complete lack of recognition, this could be a universe very far removed from her own. A slight smirk touched her lips. A universe where she didn't end up attached to the General (aside from her own, of course). What a novel concept.  
  
"Colonel Carter." Pilot's voice hissed.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"One of the bounty hunters is heading back to their ship. I believe you may have tripped an alarm of some sort."  
  
Damn. "How much time?"  
  
"Less than 30 microts."  
  
Seconds were shorter than microts. That still didn't give her enough time. "Chi?"  
  
"I heard."  
  
"Time for plan B."  
  
"What's that?"  
  
"Stay in the cell, get Daniel out when it's clear--screw the alarms."  
  
"Gotcha."  
  
There was no time to put the panel back together, so she headed for the stairwell back up to the level they'd come in on. Halfway up the steps, she heard the almost universal sound of a gun being cocked. "Well, well, well. Don't move."  
  
She could see him above her and a little to the side, he had nothing on Aris Boch. Aris would have simply shot her, then thrown her in a cell. Still, she ought to be happy for simple things. "Wasn't planning to."  
  
"C'mon, up the steps." He gestured.  
  
"Thought you told me not to move." She replied sarcastically.  
  
"Well, now I'm telling you to move."  
  
"Okay." Sam threw herself backwards, barely making it to the floor below before little bolts of energy began slamming into the stairwell. She'd pay with bruises later, but only one shot had actually connected, singing her leg. The rest missed her by inches. Normally, she would have let him capture her. But normally, she wasn't the only one free. And she certainly couldn't count on backup from Earth.  
  
With one pistol out, she fired back, assuming she would miss, while the other worked on figuing out how to overload the second pistol.  
  
"Need a hand?"  
  
"Chiana, get Daniel out of here."  
  
"I did. He's stashed in a closet in the frelling maintenance bay."  
  
"Fine. Get this bastard off my back."  
  
Without waiting for Chiana to do it, Sam took off down the corridor and ended up back in front of the panel. "Pilot?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Can Moya expel this ship without the engines being on?"  
  
"Yes, she can, the docking web--"  
  
"Fine." She cut him off. "Give us a count of 290 microts on my mark, then jetison this ship."  
  
"I--"  
  
"Don't argue, just do it." Her leg was beginning to hurt. It made her cranky.  
  
"Yes, Colonel."  
  
"Call me Sam, Pilot." Okay. Not completely cranky. Her fingers found the correct spot, and she waited. "Mark." The connection was set. A soft pulsing sound came from the pistol. She shoved it into the gap she'd made behind the panel and re-closed it.  
  
"Sam?"  
  
"Chi?"  
  
"I got him. Now get your ass out of there."  
  
"Willdo." But she stopped when she hit the door she'd seen earlier. Behind it was another cell. If it was as shielded as the other had been, it could be filled or it could be empty. And the person inside could be evil. She had to check, on the off chance it was someone else from SG-1 (and she was so going to think about the math later).  
  
There was another prisoner inside. He looked up when entered, a hopeful look in his eyes. "Hi?"  
  
He seemed harmless, kind of cute in that little brother sort of way. Sam shot the chains, "C'mon."  
  
"Thank you, oh, thank you--" he tried to grab her hand, then stopped as the gun pointed itself unerringly at his head. "All right."  
  
"In front. Move."  
  
He obeyed, chattering about being a nice guy, and harmless, and innocent, and how his ship had been destroyed by the horrible bounty hunters who didn't understand the true workings of a driven Garbologist. Sam seriously considered shooting him.  
  
"Sam, hurry up, you've only got a hundred microts."  
  
"On my way. I picked up another stray."  
  
"Frell."  
  
"We can drop him on a planet. I think he's harmless."  
  
"Look out!"  
  
Several things happened at once, almost too fast for her to process. But adrenaline had flooded her system the moment she'd been shot earlier, so everything was moving in 3/4 bullet time anyway. The Garbologist collapsed at her feet, his chest smoking, his eyes open and blank. Sam shot the man who'd shot him, then dropped to one knee and slammed her back into the side of the corridor and took out the man who'd been standing behind her. She stared at their corpses, trying to decide if it was simply lucky that they hadn't been wearing body armor. Time stretched and changed, and she blinked, because Chiana was screaming at her from somewhere distant.  
  
"Frell frell frell! Sam!"  
  
"I'm fine, Chi, just--" Her left side ached, and she knew without looking that she'd been hit. Shit. "Ow. Took one hit."  
  
"You have to get out of there!"  
  
"I know!"  
  
She dragged herself to her feet, and forced herself to run, adrenaline deadening anything but the need to get out of the ship before it was expelled from Moya.  
  
"10." Pilot's voice announced in her ears.  
  
She passed the room Daniel had been in.  
  
"9."  
  
Another corridor, and she didn't stop to grab the pulse rifle that must have been discarded by one of her attackers. "8."  
  
"7."  
  
Her feet hit the decking of the ramp down into the maintenance bay. "6."  
  
"5."  
  
"Hurry up!"  
  
"4."  
  
She skidded past Chiana, "Close the doors!"  
  
"3."  
  
The doors began moving slowly, ponderously, "2." Both she and Chiana grabbed onto the steel ladder-like protrusions.  
  
"1."  
  
Through the still-open gap, Sam watched as the ship was grabbed by an invisible force and dragged out of the ship. With the airlock open, she could feel decompression pulling at her, at Chiana. They both clung to the girders. Then the ship was expelled, and Moya lurched as Pilot turned her away from the explosion that proceeded to rock her.  
  
Shudders went through the floor, and Sam grimly hung on to her chosen projection.  
  
"It worked." Pilot sounded relieved. "It worked, but one of the bounty hunters is now arriving at the maintenance bay!"  
  
Damn. "Chiana. Hide. Now."  
  
"But--"  
  
"No arguments!"  
  
- 


	3. Living the Lie

Disclaimers and such on Chapter One.  
Lost in Space (A Cliche in Five Parts)  
by Ana Lyssie Cotton Chapter Three: Living the Lie  
  
Sometimes, Daniel liked to pretend his life was different. That he worked on a dig in Egypt, or he ran a mustard factory in Newark. Anything that wasn't his normal occupation of Get Captured a Lot and Make a Few Anthropological Discoveries No One Could Ever Know About ('cause it's classified, donchaknow). Other times, he knew it was exactly what it seemed to be. And he was lost. Chiana had told him to head to the center chamber in somewhat broken English. And so he was. Except he didn't really know where the center chamber was, and he had a feeling that he couldn't have found it without a map, anyway.  
  
This was much more Jack's sort of thing. Or Teal'c's. Of course, Jack couldn't generally find his way out of a goa'uld mother ship without a map. But he would at least make a good show of it. Maybe if he'd been planning to blow the ship he was on up, it would be easier. A tiny little robot suddenly zipped up to him, stopped, and then shot him with something. "Hey!"  
  
It ran away a moment later, and Daniel shook his head. Whatever it had shot him with, it had only stung for a second. And unless it was a horribly infectious disease, he should be all right. With his luck, it would probably be an STD.  
  
"Nobody move!" At least, that's what he figured the voice was yelling. He wasn't completely certain, because it wasn't a language he recognized.  
  
Then again, maybe his luck was in.  
  
After all, he might still have his hands manacled (Chiana had only bothered seperating his feet), but he did have a gun.  
  
Peeking around the corner, he saw one of his captors holding a weapon on a group of people. It took less than a second to debate with himself about shooting the man in the back. They had been planning to sell him. Something told him that made them bad people.  
  
The shot wasn't hard to do, after all, after 8 years on SG-1, he'd learned a few things about guns (Jack had taken him to the firing range until he could actually hit a a target, and Sam took him back every month since--when they weren't injured. Plus, fighting for your life gave a whole new edge to not wasting amunition). The impact was quick, the stench of burning flesh reaching him even as the half-man, half-thing folded into a boneless heap.  
  
"Hey." The dark-haired man nodded at him. "Thanks."  
  
Daniel eyed him for a moment, then looked down at the man he'd shot. "Is he dead?"  
  
The brunette woman viciously kicked the slumped figure. "If he isn't, he will be soon." Her inflections were strange.  
  
It took Daniel a moment to realize. "You're not speaking English, are you?"  
  
"Look, we can have the--"  
  
"Commander Crichton, Colonel Carter has been taken captive by the last bounty hunter. He is saying he will kill her if you do not all do as he says." This was a different voice, and Daniel could feel the flavor of something else underneath the words.  
  
If he hadn't been worried about Sam, he might have actually bounced for a moment with geekiness.  
  
"Right, Pilot." The man held out a hand for the gun.  
  
"Uh..."  
  
"You can trust us. Really."  
  
Eyeing the assembled bunch for a moment, Daniel briefly considered the wisdom of this. Then he shrugged and handed over the gun.  
  
"Not Wynona, but it should do."  
  
"Uh, excuse me?" Daniel held out his still-manacled hands.  
  
"Oh. Right. Hold 'em to one side."  
  
The blast was brief, and Daniel winced. There would probably be burns on his wrists. Still, better than being all tied up.  
  
"D, I want you and Aeryn to swing around the other side. Make a stop in quarters and get armed. Spaceman Spiff--"  
  
"Daniel."  
  
"Right, Daniel and I will wait for a few minutes, then come in on the other side."  
  
The tall tentacled being nodded, and he and the brunette woman left, jogging away down the corridor.  
  
"C'mon, Spiff."  
  
"Daniel."  
  
"Yeah, whatever."  
  
Daniel made a mental note that he really really hated people. Really. Then he followed the man back into the corridors of the ship.  
  
-  
  
The shootout was swift.  
  
"Well..."  
  
"I think," Sam looked like she was having a hard time standing, "that their personal shields were linked to their ship."  
  
"And you blew it up."  
  
"Yeah." She half-smiled. "I also think I'm gonna pass out now."  
  
-  
  
Sam was really getting tired of being shot and poked and prodded and dosed with drugs.  
  
"At least you weren't chained up for a week," Daniel informed her from his own bed in the medical bay. He and the crew of Moya had successfully killed one stupid bounty hunter in a well-orchestrated crossfire. If Sam hadn't had his gun in her temple, she would have thought it was overkill.  
  
"Bite me, Daniel."  
  
"Oooh," he mocked, "Tell me where."  
  
She rolled her eyes. "I need to be up. I need to be calculating and figuring this out!"  
  
The archeologist sighed, "Sam. We're safe, for now. And you're recovering from burns and a concussion and a sprained shoulder."  
  
A mutinous look entered her eyes, "Don't make me hurt you, Daniel Jackson."  
  
"Besides," he continued, as if she hadn't spoken. "Either the three of them are perfectly safe or they're already dead."  
  
The matter-of-fact words made her flinch, and she looked away. She didn't want to think that they were dead, odds were, since they were SG-1, they were alive. With extra luck, they were safe. She didn't like to contemplate the alternative.  
  
"Hey, campers," John Crichton breezed in, eyeing them both. "Pilot says we're approaching a commerce planet. Anything you two need while we're down there?"  
  
"To go with you?" suggested Daniel with a hopeful look.  
  
"Nope. I let you off this ship, you'll either get captured, tortured, or killed."  
  
"That happens to us on Earth," Sam said dryly.  
  
"What kinda planet do you two come from?"  
  
"Well, we're at war," Daniel started. "And--"  
  
"Daniel." Sam cut him off and half-smiled at John. "I don't suppose they have coffee out here? Daniel tends to go insane without it."  
  
"Hey!"  
  
"Sadly, darlin', no, they don't. It's sad, too. Look..." Looking between them, John sighed, "I don't want you to think you're under house arrest or anything, but Granny said you," he pointed at Sam, "shouldn't be moving anyway. And Spaceman Spiff here--"  
  
Sam giggled.  
  
"Hey!"  
  
"But it's perfect, Daniel."  
  
Glowering, the archeologist muttered something under his breath.  
  
Sam raised an eyebrow at him, "I didn't hear that, Dr. Jackson."  
  
"He said--" John stopped, smirking, "Never mind. I'll leave you two kids to bicker. Try not to blow up the ship."  
  
"She already blew up one ship, AND a sun. You sure you can trust her alone?" Daniel asked, his tone sour.  
  
"You--she blew up a sun?" John was now really staring at Sam.  
  
"Once. And it was with help." Sam hedged.  
  
"Don't tell Aeryn, she'll be jealous."  
  
"Right."  
  
"Gotcha."  
  
John waved a hand, "Right. I'm off. Don't keep the home fires burning."  
  
They were silent until there was nothing to hear again but the soft subtle heartbeat of the ship. Then Sam dragged herself out of bed, ignoring the twinges and focusing on how nice and cool the floor was on her bare feet.  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
"Going exploring. I need paper, or something." She shifted, trying not to twitch her shoulders. "There's something there, Daniel. I know what time I came through, and an approximate for you. And the spacial thing. And I think..." her voice trailed off and she stared down at the bed.  
  
"Think what?" He prompted when she'd been silent for too long.  
  
"I think I can calculate where the others are."  
  
"Right."  
  
She nodded, "I'll catch you later, Daniel."  
  
There was something driven about her, driven and strangely exhausted. But Daniel let her go. She seemed to be able to find her way around Moya much better than he could. "Pilot?"  
  
"Yes, Dr. Jackson?" The formal tones of whoever it was that ran the massive ship were oddly soothing.  
  
"Could I... Could I come and visit with you?"  
  
"Visit?" The pilot sounded confused.  
  
"Uh, yeah. I'm an anthropologist, and Crichton said something about you being bonded with the ship, and I find symbiotic relationships somewhat fascinating..." He stopped and half-smiled, "And I sound like a geek, as Jack would say."  
  
"I am... flattered, Dr. Jackson." Pilot said, his voice careful, almost tentative. "However... Moya and I were subjected to many rounds of questioning along similar lines when we were visiting Earth not very long ago."  
  
"Oh!" Daniel reached up and pushed his still-working, but slightly battered, glasses up his nose. "Um... Could I come tell you stories, then?"  
  
"Stories?" Now, the Pilot sounded interested.  
  
"Of the different races and cultures I've catalogued and encountered over the years."  
  
"That... There is a DRD in the hallway. If you will follow it," Pilot requested, his tone strange, "It will lead you to my den."  
  
"As Jack would say, cool."  
  
A small little yellow sentinal was waiting in the corridor. It waved its antennae at him, then set off down the corridor. He watched the walls and the floors, but eventually gave up. He'd have to let the others lead him around, since there wasn't any sense of direction here. It wasn't like a tomb, which had certain mathematical intricacies in its design that designated what went where and which corridors were safe.  
  
Daniel hadn't been sure what to expect from the Pilot. It (he?) was not human, but it could be anything, bonded to a living ship (and that still flabbergasted him). What he got was a very very large crustacean-like being, with calm eyes and a swift deft movement of its four limbs.  
  
"Hello."  
  
"Dr. Jackson."  
  
For a moment, they eyed each assessingly, then Daniel carefully scrambled up onto one side of the console apparatus, crossed his legs, and began telling stories.  
  
-  
  
"You are here to see the two men on the mountain?" The voice was hushed, sly.  
  
John eyed the surrounding crowd, trying to find the source. "Uh..."  
  
"You will want to. For they speak in tongues and wear strange clothing." The voice gave a giggling choking sound, and John eyed the wrinkled old man Aeryn was holding her pulse pistol on.  
  
"Hey. An old man. Now, why does this seem familiar?"  
  
"Don't know." Aeryn shook him, "Tell us about these holy men?"  
  
John loved it when his girlfriend read his mind. Of course, part of it was that they were extra-suspicious because of their two new guests. John was reserving judgement on Daniel Jackson, although he sensed the man was something of a geek. Possibly a pacifist, too. His tale of being mistaken for John Crichton had almost been amusing. Still didn't explain how the damn bounty hunters had found them. And while that disturbed him, he had Sam Carter to worry about. She'd risked her life for them--and gotten injured. That was pretty solid. And at least she wasn't spouting crap about protecting John Crichton, Master of the Universe. Or wars. He really didn't want to think about wars.  
  
He also didn't want to think about having left Earth behind for good.  
  
There was the baby, though. And Aeryn. And these two holy men.  
  
"They live on the mountain!"  
  
"Uh-huh. Look, Pontius," John pointed at him, "Take us to them."  
  
The man nodded rapidly, then turned. He led them through a series of back alleys until they came to a massive building. Ironically, it was called 'The Mountain'. John glanced at the entrance, then looked at Aeryn.  
  
She tossed him a shrug.  
  
"I'll be back in a bit, honey."  
  
The interior was oddly lit, reminding John of the Delvian temple they'd come across a few cycles back. A half-grin twisted his lips. The Delvians had been simply one of many to frell with his mind. Down a side corridor, he could hear two voices. One was deep and calm, the other was slightly higher.  
  
"I'm telling you, Teal'c, we have to--"  
  
"Jonas Quinn. There is nothing that you can do for me." This voice was also patient. "The tretonin has run out. Without it, I shall die."  
  
"Damnit, Teal'c, I am not--"  
  
"Excuse me." John smiled at the two men in what he hoped was a disarming manner. The man with the deep voice was tall and dark, muscles apparent even in his robe-clad arms. The other man was slightly shorter, projecting a strange air of naivete and something child-like.  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Y'all," he drawled, "Wouldn't happen to be members of SG-1, would ya?"  
  
The younger man stiffened, "I--you--" he looked at the other man. "Teal'c, I think--"  
  
"Jonas Quinn," the other man said, his dark eyes fixed on John. "This man is speaking English."  
  
"Oh. Hey! He is! You are--anyway." Jonas Quinn blinked.  
  
"So, if'n you boys would like to see the rest of your friends, you might wanna come with me."  
  
"We are going nowhere with you."  
  
"Crichton." Aeryn's voice chirped from his com.  
  
"Yo."  
  
"There is... trouble. I believe we need to leave, and leave now."  
  
"Baby, there's always trouble where we are." He looked at the two men. "I have a Sam Carter and a Daniel Jackson, if those names mean anything to you, you'll come with me. Now."  
  
Teal'c studied him for a moment, then stood and inclined his head. "Lead the way."  
  
Not that it was that easy. Oh, no. First there was a fire fight. And then a run through city streets. And then a huge argument in the pod that the two newcommers couldn't follow because they had no translator microbes. And then Teal'c made the mistake of pissing Aeryn off, and there was a scuffle. And in the ensuing chaos they almost didn't notice the gunships closing on them.  
  
"Pilot!" John let his urgency color his voice, "We're coming in hot, with bogeys on our tail. Get Moya ready to starburst the instant we're settled in the bay."  
  
"Of course, Commander."  
  
D'Argo made a strange sound, "I believe I was supposed to be captain?"  
  
"Right. You can give the orders next time, D. Sorry."  
  
They settled in the maintenance bay moments later, and John felt the unmistakable shift and surge as Moya jumped into starburst. Without needing to talk, John and D'Argo each took a side of the large unconscious black man they'd picked up on the planet. His companion was eyeing them with something approaching curiosity while Aeryn held her pulse pistol on him. Carefully.  
  
"Really, you guys didn't have to go to all of this trouble," the kid said. "I mean we weren't--"  
  
"Look," John paused as he and D shifted their burden down the steps of the pod. "I meant what I said. Sam and Daniel are here. And they're not prisoners."  
  
"Ah. And General O'Neill?"  
  
"Haven't met him." John winced. The guy was heavy. Noranti appeared in the hallway, bustling towards them. "Granny! Got a new case for you, and I think there's more than the nasty boot to the head Aeryn gave him."  
  
"Oh dear, oh dear," the old woman wafted up on a wave of stench. "Yes. I see. Drugs used badly, though not well. Bring him!"  
  
"Hey--" The kid stopped, then looked at the pulse pistol Aeryn was still pointing at him. "Fine. I'm following."  
  
"Pilot?"  
  
"Yes, Captain D'Argo?"  
  
"Where are our two guests?"  
  
"Dr. Jackson is in my den with me. He has been... explaining Earth's idiosyncracies to me. Colonel Carter is currently in Commander Crichton and Officer Sun's quarters."  
  
By-passing the need to question the latter statement, D'Argo said, "Fine. Whatever. Send Dr. Jackson back down to the medical bay. And a DRD with translator microbes."  
  
"Yes, Captain."  
  
- 


	4. Playing Your Song

Disclaimers and such on Chapter One.  
Lost in Space (A Cliche in Five Parts)  
by Ana Lyssie Cotton Chapter Four: Playing Your Song  
  
By the time Daniel had time to get over Teal'c and Jonas Quinn simply appearing on Moya, he had to stop John Crichton from killing Sam. Well, not killing. Maiming, maybe. Puzzled blue eyes stared at them all from a nest of hastily spread and ripped and rearranged papers. "What?"  
  
"You--those were important!"  
  
"Some of them were wrong," she said calmly, her voice almost crisp. "And you've got three cogents out of phase with the molecular--no, wait." She frowned, chewing her lip. "When did Teal'c and Jonas get here?"  
  
"Hey, Sam," Jonas gave a small wave from the doorway. "We arrived on Pelaneya about a month ago."  
  
"A month." Sam frowned harder, then looked up at John. "I think I was wrong. I've missed out a calculation of some sort, and the chaos fractal is mis-matched with--"  
  
"Whoa!" Crichton knelt on one of the stacks, the paper crackling under his knees. "Look, Colonel, no offence, but these were my calculations on--"  
  
"Wormholes." She said calmly, again. "Stable wormholes, to be precise. But you were wrong in a few places. Although I like this one," she held up a half-burned sheet. "I like the idea, but I'm afraid it wouldn't be practical where we are." She sighed, "We still need a wormhole network in our universe."  
  
Daniel raised a hand, "Did anyone else get that?"  
  
"Nope," D'Argo replied.  
  
John got back up and moved to stand next to Daniel. "She normally like this?"  
  
"I..." Daniel shrugged. "I'm not sure."  
  
"Well, color me insane, but isn't she... disturbing anyone else?"  
  
Daniel glanced at Jonas, "By the way, Quinn, what were you and Teal'c doing while you were on that planet?"  
  
"We were considered holy men, because of our method of arrival."  
  
"Ah. So, is that--"  
  
"Could we leave the anthropological breakdown for later?" John pointed at Sam, who had gone back to making notations with his very prized black Bic pen. "What is with her?"  
  
"Never seen a genius at work?" Daniel asked, his tone snide.  
  
"No, Spiff, I have, just... not like this."  
  
"Jack is still missing." Daniel explained, his tone condescending.  
  
"Oh. Kay..."  
  
Aeryn wandered in, Teal'c leaning against her. "I'm jealous. She blew up a sun."  
  
"Does everyone know about that?" John threw up his hands.  
  
"I didn't tell her." Said Daniel.  
  
"It was I who informed her, Daniel Jackson."  
  
"Hey, Teal'c."  
  
John held out an arm for Aeryn to snuggle under, and placated her still sulky expression. "Well, next time, YOU can blow up the sun, honey."  
  
"Yay."  
  
"Uhh..."  
  
"Don't worry, Spiff, we don't blow up suns often."  
  
Colonel Carter suddenly gave a groan and began methodically ripping an entire sheet of paper to shreds. John blinked. "She's stuck."  
  
"Well, Jack's missing. He's usually the one to poke at her simplistic side." Daniel shrugged.  
  
"Oh. OH." John called, "Hey, Sam. Time for lunch, darlin'."  
  
"No. No time to eat, need to--" She tilted her head and squinted.  
  
John glanced at Daniel and Jonas, and then the impassive face of Teal'c, and sighed. He let Aeryn go and stepped onto the paper. "Sam. C'mon, you need to eat."  
  
The blue eyes that met his eyes were haunted. "The General is still missing. I--"  
  
"Look, Sam, I feel your pain. Really."  
  
She eyed him, as if suspicious he was mocking her.  
  
Daniel muttered something, but John ignored it. "Really..."  
  
"You... can't..." She looked away.  
  
"No, he really does. He got totally farbot when Aeryn was off with his double." D'Argo inserted, his tone amused.  
  
Sam Carter's eyes cleared for a moment, and her lips curved in amusement, "That sounds, disturbingly, like something that could happen in my life."  
  
"Yeah, so. Lunch?"  
  
"I--Oh! I could KISS you, if Aeryn wouldn't then kill me painfully." She grabbed up the pen and began scrawling something on the paper again.  
  
John could read what looked to be wormhole equations coupled with Planck's Constant, and two or three things that made no sense. He sighed and gave up to go stand by the others in the doorway.  
  
-  
  
They'd adjourned for lunch (without Sam, but Daniel hadn't expected her to leave her calculations to join them), and now most of them were back in the chamber off the maintenance bay, watching Sam write on the paper, walls and floor.  
  
"She scares me." D'Argo announced, his voice oddly soft.  
  
Daniel had to sort of agree with that. "Yeah."  
  
"She scares me." Crichton said. Daniel still hadn't decided if he liked this man, but he instinctively trusted him. As he had instinctively trusted Teal'c. It was... odd.  
  
"Everything scares you." scoffed D'Argo.  
  
"True, but really scares me." As if there was some distinction.  
  
"She makes me nervous."  
  
All of them looked at Aeryn. Daniel was disturbed. The competent and ruthless woman hadn't seemed the type to be scared.  
  
Hastily, Aeryn added, "I could still take her, but I'd get really bruised up first."  
  
"Right." Daniel sighed, "So. We need to find Jack. Now."  
  
"Indeed." Teal'c intoned, lifting one eyebrow as he watched Colonel Carter pace back and forth, muttering softly.  
  
"Was she like this with the moon thing?" Jonas asked. "I think I must have not been paying attention, although there was the yelling at Dr. Lee. And the drunken phone calls at 3 a.m."  
  
Daniel blinked. "You got drunken phone calls?"  
  
"Oh, yeah."  
  
"I never got drunken phone calls!" Maybe he shouldn't feel jealous. Really.  
  
"Well, only on the nights Janet would make her go home." Jonas hastily amended.  
  
"That is because Colonel Carter did not have the capacity to use the phone while O'Neill was trapped on Edora." Teal'c informed him, his expression calm.  
  
Jonas was nodding. "Yeah, I heard about that from Janet."  
  
"Janet told you about that?!"  
  
"Oh, totally. You know that woman was an absolute machine with tequila shots?"  
  
"Yes, Dr. Fraiser did hold her liquor rather well."  
  
Crichton coughed, "Not to break up old home week, but, moon thing? Edora? Anyone care to explain to the baffled crew of the Jolly Roger?"  
  
"Um. Jack was trapped on Edora for three months. Sam spent the entire time building a particle accelerator so we could get him back."  
  
"She... she built a particle accelerator?!" Crichton gaped, then looked at the woman who was now flopped on her back staring at the ceiling. "What the hell did you need it for?"  
  
"Classified." Daniel replied. Never before had he felt so smug at being able to say that.  
  
"Spiff, that's beginning to wear REALLY thin right about now."  
  
"Right. And the moon thing--well, I was dead during that, so Jonas can fill you in."  
  
"Dead?"  
  
"Yeah. Jonas?"  
  
"Colonel O'Neill--"  
  
"He's a General now, right?"  
  
"Yeah. Anyway. General O'Neill got teleported off this planet, and we didn't know where he was, only that he was with a man who probably meant him harm."  
  
"Probably?!" Sam's voice was strangely soft, "Maybourne is a bastard. Of course he meant Jack harm."  
  
All of them watched for a moment as she returned to her calculations.  
  
"How long?"  
  
"A month."  
  
"Wow." John Crichton stared at her, then looked at D'Argo. "Was I this bad?"  
  
"You were worse."  
  
"Of course... Jack's the same way when she's missing."  
  
John eyed Daniel. "Really."  
  
"Indeed." Teal'c said softly. "O'Neill becomes most withdrawn when Colonel Carter is not there."  
  
"Focused." Corrected Daniel. "Jack gets all... scary Black Ops focused, when Sam's missing."  
  
"Happens a lot, does it?"  
  
"Well..." Daniel seemed to be counting. "At least three times in the last two years. Plus, she was kidnapped by a billionaire who almost killed her in the name of science, and--"  
  
"Y'know," interruped John, "I think you people fit in on Moya, complete with your own mental traumas."  
  
"Did I mention I was Ascended for a year?" Daniel asked dryly.  
  
Aeryn eyed him, then looked at Sam, "She looks like she needs help."  
  
"Okay, honey. I'll go help the crazy lady put her mind together." And he went. Daniel had to give him credit for that. He went and talked to Sam in the state she was in. And they babbled at each other and were shortly BOTH writing on the paper and walls and floor.  
  
Daniel had no clue why he felt the need, but he asked Aeryn, anyway. "Um... aren't you... worried?" He gestured at the way the two scientists were practically finishing each others' sentences.  
  
A snicker came from the Sebacean woman. "He knows I would skin him alive while making her watch."  
  
Jonas gulped. Daniel had to admit he was kind of feeling the same way.  
  
"So," the Kelownan said, "Guess it's a good thing she's still lusting after General O'Neill."  
  
"HEY!" Okay, so it was merely an ojection to form. Still...  
  
"Well, it is obvious, Dr. Jackson. After all, Sam did say she and her fiancee broke up."  
  
"That doesn't necessarily mean..." Daniel paused. "Okay, you're right. She's hung up on Jack. She always has been."  
  
"I need to meet this man, obviously." Aeryn observed, her lips twitching in amusement.  
  
Chiana, who had been silent up until now, tilted her head, "Is he frellable?"  
  
"I... can't comment on that. Hey, Pilot? You up for more stories?" Stories. Yes. It was time to go tell stories and get AWAY from the crazy people.  
  
"Certainly, Dr. Jackson."  
  
"Right. Someone let me know when they have something figured out."  
  
-  
  
They had done it. It had taken half a day--during which, Noranti had cured Teal'c completely (after muttering about primitives and their destructive tendencies), Pilot had been enlightened on Earth culture, and Chiana had made at least two hastily turned-down passes at Jonas. Daniel would have been jealous, but he prefered not having D'Argo glare at him. The large Luxian scared him.  
  
"So, this is the planet." And they were orbiting it.  
  
"Yep." Sam made a gesture, "If we're right--"  
  
"Then he should be somewhere down there, in about a twenty mile radius." John interrupted.  
  
"Yeah."  
  
There was silence. Then John clapped his hands. "D'Argo, you stay here, Chi, Aeryn, you're with me. Stark--"  
  
"I think he's still hiding from me." Daniel said. The strange man had taken one look at him, shrieked unintelligeably, and disappeared.  
  
"Ok. So, that's the three of us. D, you and Teal'c are backup. Granny, be--"  
  
"I'm going with you." Daniel had to admire Sam's poise. She hadn't slept for nearly an entire day, and she still favored her right side slightly. And she'd acted insane for twelve hours.  
  
"Uh, no--"  
  
"There is no argument, Crichton. Either I go with you, or--"  
  
"You should take her," Daniel said, hastily. He'd seen Sam like this before. Last time she'd simply machiavellied Dr. Weir into letting her take a cargo ship to find the Asgard. And Jack had been alive and well (if frozen with an Ancient database in his skull) and they'd known where he was.  
  
"The General might..." She didn't finish her thought, she simply met John's eyes.  
  
"Fine." The astronaut muttered. "What is it with you people? Is your motto, 'We live for the one, we die for the one'?"  
  
"No, actually it's 'No one gets left behind'." Daniel said calmly.  
  
The crew of Moya were silent for a moment, looking at the four people standing so calmly in their midst, ready to challenge the unknown to rescue a man who might be perfectly safe. "Yeah. Fine. Aeryn, loan Colonel Carter here your spare pants."  
  
"I don't--"  
  
"You need to blend in. Since you look Sebacean, we need you to look like a Peacekeeper. Peacekeepers wear leather. Aeryn?"  
  
"C'mon," the Sebacean woman half-smiled, "You're about my size, they should fit well."  
  
Daniel considered this for a moment, "Uh, you might want to take Noranti with you."  
  
"Oh?"  
  
"Jack's an old man. And he's never seen Sam in leather."  
  
"Actually, he saw some of my pictures from Steveston," Jonas said. "Sam was wearing leather pants the entire time. And this really," he gestured, "nice trenchcoat."  
  
"Oh." Maybe Jack would be perfectly fine after all.  
  
-  
  
Yeah. They might need some sort of revivication technique, Daniel decided, staring at Sam as Aeryn helped her with a few more straps and buckles.  
  
Standing next to him, Crichton shifted. "You know, it's a pity they're not lesbians."  
  
"Uh-huh." Damn. He should NOT be thinking these sorts of things about a woman he normally liked to consider a sister. But clad in black leather, with a pulse pistol strapped to each thigh, and her blonde hair ruffled, Sam was hot. So was Aeryn. He gulped. "They'll kill us, won't they."  
  
"Yup."  
  
Then the girls were ready, Crichton was ready, and Daniel needed to go talk to Pilot again. "Well, we'll see you guys in a bit. Don't wait up for us, now."  
  
"Good luck!"  
  
-  
  
"Needle in a haystack."  
  
"Actually," Sam pulled out a small device, "Now that we're in range, we simply need to follow his beacon."  
  
"Beacon?" John stared at her.  
  
"General O'Neill insisted all of SG-1 be fitted with subcutaneous transmitters after the last time I was kidnapped by the NID."  
  
"Oh he did, did he?"  
  
"Even himself." She half-grinned, "It was a group outing. Dr. Brightman wasn't impressed."  
  
John was definitely certain these people lived lives as crazy as his. "Y'know, one of these days, we're going to not be running around finding your friends. And I'll actually buy you a drink." And get a straight story, and a damned explanation about wormholes.  
  
"Sounds fun." She frowned, "There. I've got his signal. Jack's here." She almost bounced.  
  
"Chiana, stay with the pod and be ready to set off."  
  
The Nebari saluted.  
  
"Lead on, MacDuff."  
  
They traveled through streets and a market and the crowds one generally found on these sorts of planets, until they came to a slightly higher-class street. Higher class in that it didn't have garbage in the gutters.  
  
General Jack O'Neill, of a completely different Earth, had fetched up in a brothel. John Crichton had seen brothels before, but this was a really high-class one. Damn. The man was a lucky man. Maybe he wouldn't want to be rescued.  
  
"He's... in there."  
  
One glance at her told him she had guessed what the place was. Conflicting emotions passed across her face before she settled on stoic solemnity.  
  
"Right. C'mon, Sam. Aeryn, stay out here unless we shout."  
  
Nodding, his girlfriend (trite and childish, but it STILL gave him SUCH a thrill) faded into the crowd, hand on her pulse pistol. John clipped a hand under Sam's arm and stepped up, taking her with him.  
  
The doorman eyed them, but let them in. "So far, so good."  
  
"He's one floor up and about twenty meters south southwest."  
  
Which meant stairs. He spied them a moment later, and headed for them.  
  
"Pardon me." A woman sashayed up, quite probably the proprietress. "But we don't serve Peacekeepers here."  
  
"We're not Peacekeepers," John informed her. He could deal with that. No skin off his nose. Just get in, get the General... Funny, he knew his life was never easy.  
  
The woman simply looked at him.  
  
"Look, we're here to meet a friend. Tall, kind of sarcastic?" He had to be, if the way the others acted was any indication.  
  
"Carter!" shouted a voice. It was male, and John bet himself that it was O'Neill. Especially since the voice was almost jubilant.  
  
All three of them looked up the stairs to watch as a man sauntered down them. He'd fared better than Sam in his tumble from the wormhole. Although he had lost most of the outer layer of his clothes. He was still wearing a black t-shirt, green pants, and boots, however. Which was good, if they had to fight their way out. Barefoot was just not the way to go.  
  
"Jack."  
  
He didn't think even Aeryn could look that conflicted and stiff. John had the sense that if he pushed her she would either shatter or fall over. And he didn't need to pick a million pieces of Sam Carter off the floor of a high-priced whorehouse.  
  
"Hey, General O'Neill. How ya doin'? Me and Sam here thought we'd stop by, pick you up for a little fun. Maybe some beer..."  
  
"I'm afraid you can not." The Madame smiled insincerely at them. "This man is our property."  
  
"And I keep tellin' you--" But the woman next to the General suddenly cuffed him. "Ow!"  
  
"No he isn't. That man is the property of the United States Air Force." Apparently, Lieutenant Colonel Carter could definitely be the type of officer that would send recruits quaking in their shoes.  
  
John was impressed that the proprietress only stepped back once. If that had been him, he would have been bowing and scraping. "Does he bear your mark of owmership?"  
  
"There's a small tattoo on his left buttock, intertwined initials 'S' and 'C'. If you require further proof, I can draw it. After all, as I am the United States Air Force, it is my mark." Her tone was completely confident, completely certain.  
  
And John wondered what the hell she was playing at. If everything he knew about the Air Force was true, there was no WAY that she'd had anything to do with that tattoo. Probably. He eyed her, then looked at the proprietress. "Well, darlin'?"  
  
"Draw this mark."  
  
Sam pulled the pen she'd been using from her pocket and drew swiftly on the back of her hand. She displayed the carefully intertwined initials. "It looks like this."  
  
The woman deflated, "Very well. As you have come to reclaim your property, I return what is yours. You are lucky you came now. Another ten arns and he would have been mine to distribute as I pleased." Her eyes flashed with anger.  
  
"Lucky." Sam echoed. She smiled, the expression not reaching her eyes. "Yes. I suppose I was."  
  
This was too easy. John knew it. And he knew the General knew it, too. Sam, on the other hand, seemed blithely unaware. Until the General reached them and she stepped into him and around him, handing over a suddenly free pulse pistol. John was pulling his even as the brothel guards began to pull theirs.  
  
"Take them!"  
  
It was a quick shoot-out, and John almost had nothing to do, but Wynona was a trusty weapon, so he didn't make too many mistakes. They fought their way into the street, and ran. Aeryn joined them half a block later. "Can't you ever not piss people off, Crichton?"  
  
"Hey, baby, it's a habit. They're hard to break."  
  
She shot him a smile, glanced at the other two, then took the lead.  
  
John dropped back to take the rear-guard, leaving the two Air Force officers alone.  
  
- 


	5. Kettlebones and WhimseyDriven Engines of...

Disclaimers and such on Chapter One.  
Lost in Space (A Cliche in Five Parts)  
by Ana Lyssie Cotton Chapter Five: Kettlebones and Whimsey-Driven Engines of Thought  
  
"So..."  
  
"Good to see you, sir." Glad you're alive, glad you're not dead, oh, and by the way, we're stuck in a universe that isn't ours and I can't get us home. But she didn't say that.  
  
"You too, Carter." He fingered the pulse pistol he was still carrying, then shot her a glance. "So... I see you fell in with the leather crowd again. Are we taking motorcycles home?"  
  
"Something like that, sir." Formality, her only refuge. Then she frowned, remembering, "Sir? You could... understand them?"  
  
He gave a shrug. "Yeah, they injected me with these microbial thingies."  
  
"Translator microbes." A fleeting grimace, because she knew where they colonized. "Really damn useful."  
  
"Couldn't understand 'em before. Worse than Daniel when he's really drunk."  
  
"Yup."  
  
They walked through the crowd in silence, watching the swish of Aeryn's black coat in front of them.  
  
"So..."  
  
"You said that."  
  
"Yup." He eyed her again. "Daniel, T and Jonas?"  
  
"Alive and well on Moya."  
  
"Moya?"  
  
"Their ship." And here was more stable ground. She could illustrate a living ship, sketch curves in the air and babble happily about it. No need to touch on anything remotely serious. "She's--"  
  
"Later." He cut her off.  
  
Sensing a change in the crowd that her commanding officer had picked up, Sam stiffened and began looking around alertly, scanning the people for the reason. She soon spotted them. Enforcers (they had to be, no one would be in bulky black like that, with a business-like attitude without being cops) were forcing their way through from the far left.  
  
"Damn." Crichton was behind them, Aeryn having slowed her pace slightly so they were now traveling closer together. "Chiana?"  
  
"Pod's ready to go." The Nebari chirped from the coms.  
  
"Good. Sam--"  
  
"HALT!"  
  
"Go!" John snapped, shoving at Sam's back.  
  
She ran, the General and Crichton following her. She kept Aeryn's back in her forward vision and scanned the sides. The crowd didn't exactly part for them, but from the things people were saying, they weren't all that fond of the enforcers. So it didn't hinder them, either.  
  
Aeryn suddenly dashed to the right, and Sam followed her. People and market stalls and more people went past in a blur. And then they broke through into a clearing of some sort.  
  
That was wrong. She knew that was wrong, but it was too late by the time Aeryn was turning back.  
  
"Chiana! Get the pod off the ground!"  
  
"But, Crichton--"  
  
"Just do it!"  
  
Something whined, and everything went black.  
  
-  
  
"Some rescue, Carter."  
  
"Bite me, Jack."  
  
"Tell me where."  
  
John groaned. They were bickering. Great. Just great. He opened one eye and discovered they were in the normal non-descript cell he was used to waking up in. He made a face and felt cool fingers stroking his brow. "Hey, baby."  
  
"Hey yourself." Aeryn eyed him. "They're being frelling annoying. Can I shoot one of them when we're free?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Why not?"  
  
"It wouldn't be nice."  
  
"Hey!" Sam yelped, having apparently heard them. "No shooting the General!"  
  
"Aw, Carter, I didn't know you cared."  
  
"I don't."  
  
"HEY!" John yelled before they could bicker again. "If the two of you are done pretending to hate each other could you please kiss and make up so we can move on to the escaping from our cell part?"  
  
"One thing I'm really curious about, Carter."  
  
"Yes, Jack?"  
  
The older man eyed her, then looked at John and Aeryn. "How did you know about the tattoo?"  
  
"Feretti."  
  
"Ah." O'Neill shifted and slid his hands into his pockets. "Who are your new friends?"  
  
"John Crichton and Aeryn Sun."  
  
"Nicetameetya, kids."  
  
"Yeah."  
  
Aeryn shifted impatiently.  
  
"Carter?"  
  
"I'm thinking, Jack."  
  
"Y'know, you didn't used to be this snippy."  
  
"And you didn't used to be so cranky."  
  
"Now that's a lie."  
  
"You're a bad influence."  
  
"John." Aeryn's voice was tense.  
  
He looked where she was looking. Oh. Yay, there were guards opening their cell. "Let me do the talking."  
  
"Yes, because you've done such a fabulous job so far." O'Neill commented sarcastically.  
  
"Shut up, Jack." John was amused to watch Sam elbow the man.  
  
"Ow."  
  
And then D'Argo appeared in the doorway.  
  
"These them, m'lord?" The flunky guard asked.  
  
"Yes. Unfortunately."  
  
"Then they are yours, as agreed by your Barrister and the fees you have paid."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
D'Argo? Courteous? John raised his eyebrows. This was a new look for him. The Luxian gestured, "C'mon you lot."  
  
The four of them didn't hesitate, exiting the cell and following the red-clad back and bouncing tentacles as it wended its way through halls and city streets and crowds until they were on a Moya pod. And could ask questions.  
  
Jonas was there, grinning. "It worked!"  
  
"Yes." D replied shortly.  
  
"What worked?" demanded O'Neill.  
  
"We bought you." Jonas struck a pose, "I was a Barrister, I bartered the deal."  
  
"You bought us?" Sam sounded amused. "I hope you paid more than a pistol."  
  
"Aw, c'mon, Carter, you know you were so worth my .45."  
  
"I'm not talking to you, sir."  
  
"Teal'c and I considered blowing the planet up to get you back," said D'Argo, his eyes rolling in exasperation. "But Jonas suggested a less... costly plan."  
  
"What did you buy us with?"  
  
"Kelownan currency."  
  
Sam's eyes widened, "Um, shouldn't we be getting to Moya, then?"  
  
"Pilot has instructions to starburst again the instant we're on board."  
  
"Uh..." John looked between Jonas and Sam, "Care to explain?"  
  
"Kelownan currency is... very shiny, and very heavy." Sam said. "And it's made of iron, with a thin gold plate."  
  
"Ah. Sparky helped with this plan, didn't he."  
  
"Rygel has been noticeably absent since we were boarded two days ago." D'Argo sounded happy about that.  
  
"Ka D'Argo."  
  
"Go ahead, Pilot."  
  
"Moya's sensors have picked up what could be a Scarran vessel on the extreme edge of her range."  
  
Damn. Shit. Hell. "Pilot, we ready to starburst?"  
  
"As always, Commander Crichton."  
  
"Good, good."  
  
Once they'd landed, John felt the subtle shift again, and Moya was slipping through starburst. He and Aeryn waited until the others had all left the pod. Then he looked at her speculatively. "Y'know... we never have christened this pod."  
  
She began to laugh.  
  
-  
  
"So, where are we again?"  
  
Rolling her eyes, Sam sighed. "Alternate universe."  
  
"And we got here, how?"  
  
"By accident," her patience was wearing thin. Jack O'Neill was a trying man at the best of times. Right now, he was still getting used to being stuck in a new universe.  
  
"Right. What's up with that?"  
  
"Well, Jonas and Teal'c arrived about a month ago. Apparently together."  
  
"Indeed. We were treated as holy men." Teal'c looked smug.  
  
"Oh? That sounds nice."  
  
"Well, yeah, until they wouldn't let us go anywhere." said Jonas. He poked at the MRE he was eating cold. "And the food--ugh."  
  
"Daniel got here about a week ago, and got captured by bounty hunters."  
  
"Nothing new for him, then."  
  
"Nope."  
  
"And I got here..." Sam paused, trying to count the days. She was very tired. Injuries, bloodloss, adrenaline, having to solve a monumental puzzle -- all had combined to make her very very tired. "Well, a few days ago."  
  
Jack paused and looked at her, then pointed. "When's the last time you slept, Carter?"  
  
"That would be two days ago," announced Daniel, arriving in the center chamber and dropping onto a bench with a sigh.  
  
"Carter!"  
  
"I was busy."  
  
Her commanding officer glared, waggling his finger. "Go to bed, Carter."  
  
"You first." She snapped.  
  
"Whoa, sex on the table is not allowed, kiddies." John Crichton was leaning in the doorway, looking somewhat more relaxed. "I take it you've been catching up?"  
  
"Yes." Sam met his eyes. "Did you want to explain your theory?"  
  
"Sure. Basically, I figure this is universe 616, and you five are from universe 1138." He paused, gave a sigh, and continued. "Now, Sam mentioned something about entrophic cascade failure. I figure since Jonas and Teal'c are still here, either you're all dead or don't exist here--"  
  
"Or the proximity isn't close enough."  
  
"Exactly."  
  
"So... what?" Demanded the General.  
  
"Until we figure out how to send you back, you're stuck here."  
  
Daniel, Jonas and Teal'c had already pretty much figured this out, Sam guessed, shooting them each a glance. The General hadn't, although he didn't seem too bothered by it. "We'll work on the problem, but..."  
  
"Gosh, Carter, you'll miss your wedding."  
  
Damn him. She was exhausted. She'd spent nearly 56 hours working on the equations to find him, looking for him, shooting for him, and now he was mocking her. It was simply too much. "Jack O'Neill, you are such an ass." Her fist connected with his mouth, the knuckles stinging as she turned away and stalked out the door. Chiana was on the other side, her eyes alight. "Show me a bed, Chi?"  
  
"Right this way, Sam." A grey hand touched her wrist. "That was a nice, flush hit."  
  
"Thanks."  
  
-  
  
Jack still had his hand over his mouth, rubbing at it. He looked offended. Considering the provocation, Daniel kind of hoped it hurt a hell of a lot. "She's right, Jack. You are an ass."  
  
"Thanks, Danny. When I want your opinion--"  
  
"O'Neill. Daniel Jackson is correct."  
  
"Yeah, General." Jonas looked uncomfortable to even be saying something derogatory. "You are being an ass."  
  
"What?"  
  
"Well, Jack." said Daniel, speaking as though to a small child (which he was), "If you had been paying attention to me this morning, you would know that Sam and Pete called off their engagement on Monday."  
  
"Oh. Why?"  
  
"Sam said something about them mutually realizing they just didn't work." Daniel shrugged, "I didn't press. And she wasn't unhappy, so I didn't see a point in pushing."  
  
Jack wiped the blood off his mouth and sighed. "You're right. I am an ass."  
  
"Well, halleluiah."  
  
The four men blinked and looked at the man still standing in the doorway. John Crichton shrugged. "You boys might want to think about what you're going to do. No offence, but if you stay here on Moya... well, let's just say the last few days have been fairly normal for us."  
  
"Yeah." Daniel half-smiled, "Pilot mentioned that."  
  
"We are SG-1," intoned Teal'c, his lips twitching, "This has been a normal day for us as well."  
  
"Gosh, I missed this," said Jack, the sarcasm thick. "Did you miss this, Jonas?"  
  
"Yes, General, I did."  
  
"Aw, hell." John mimed wiping a tear, "Yer all gonna make me cry. Such idealism." He straightened, then, his posture stiffening. "Listen closely, kiddies. The Uncharted Territories and Tormented Space might seem like a ride at Disneyland, but this is just the beginning. If you stay on Moya, you could lose your mind, your life, your sanity--"  
  
"Yeah, yeah," Jack waved a hand. "We get it. Stop tryin' to scare us."  
  
"I don't think you do. There's a--"  
  
"Big bad universe out there, and it's out to get us." Daniel said. "Sorry, Crichton, we've been fighting the goa'uld for eight years. There's... a limit to how much we can be scared."  
  
John snorted, "Well, just remember I warned you."  
  
"Willdo."  
  
"And, you," John pointed at Jack, "Will go find Sam and apologize for being an ass."  
  
Daniel snickered.  
  
"Hey!"  
  
"Actually, General, I think that's a good idea." said Jonas.  
  
"I concur."  
  
"Great. I'm being ganged up on. Carter would never gang up on me." Jack said, scowling at them all.  
  
"I'll rephrase that, then," and John's voice was very pleasant. "You go apologize to the woman who spent 57 hours working to get your ass back, or I will let Granny experiment on you."  
  
"Ugh." Daniel shuddered. "Go find Sam, Jack."  
  
"Fine, fine... Where'd she go?"  
  
"Pilot?"  
  
"Colonel Carter is with Chiana three tiers down."  
  
"Ah." John suddenly looked distracted.  
  
"I will take him."  
  
"Gah! Granny! Quit sneakin' up like that, old woman!"  
  
The ancient crone sniffed, then looked at General O'Neill. "You. Come with me."  
  
Grumbling, Jack followed her out of the room. John looked at the other three men, then shrugged, "There are a few open beds two tiers up. I'm goin' to bed." Where Aeryn was. Hrm. Maybe he wouldn't sleep tonight.  
  
-  
  
Sam was warm. Nice and toasty and warm. Fuzzily, she remembered getting to an empty room. Chiana had said something strange about it looking almost like Zhaan's. Right about then, Sam had sat on the strangely shaped bed and sighed with exhaustion. The Nebari woman must have tucked her in. And taken her boots off. Sleepily, Sam identified the shape of the bed and the covers. And realized that she wasn't alone.  
  
For a moment, her mind wildly assumed it was Pete. But she and Pete hadn't done this sort of thing for three months. And even then, he hadn't been much into cuddling.  
  
He didn't drool on her shoulder, either.  
  
Damn.  
  
There was really only one man who would cuddle her like this, and drool on her. And he snored, too.  
  
And it wasn't Daniel. Although he drooled when he leaned on her in planes. She sighed. The snoring continued. So she elbowed him.  
  
"Ow! Wha--"  
  
"Good morning, Jack."  
  
"Carter."  
  
She continued staring up at the ceiling, counting the cracks. "Get cold last night, Jack?"  
  
"I... no? Last thing I remember is that old woman berating me about colors or something. She's really nuts, Carter. Makes Apophis seem sane."  
  
"Apophis is dead."  
  
"Yeah. I kinda remember that."  
  
He still hadn't moved. In fact, Sam was pretty sure his arm had tightened around her waist. Of course, her fingers were threaded through his hair. "You know, I keep hearing that when you're on the rebound..."  
  
"Rebound sucks."  
  
"So I've been told."  
  
They were both silent, she stroking his hair, he... well, cuddling. And not drooling anymore. There were so many reasons for them not to do this sort of thing. But she was tired of pushing it away, tired of lying to herself. "Jack?"  
  
"Hrm?"  
  
"We might never get home. And... even if we did, I don't...."  
  
They could crash and burn sometime in the next month. Or realize they actually hated each other. It really didn't matter.  
  
"Carter?"  
  
"Hrm?"  
  
"Wanna see my tattoo?"  
  
-finis-  
  
Epilogue.  
  
Meanwhile, back on SG-1's Earth...  
  
Major-General George Hammond was not a happy man. He was yelling at the Pentagon. It was a nice pastime, normally. This time, however, he was yelling at them because they'd done something supremely stupid. "Listen, you idiots, you let SG-1--including Jonas Quinn and General O'Neill--go through the stargate together. And now they're missing. Are you people stupid? Did you NOT read any of the reports we sent?"  
  
The voice on the other side of the phone tried to say something smarmy and placating.  
  
"Even Major Davis knows better, damn you!"  
  
Major Paul Davis, who was sitting on the other side of the desk, looked offended. "Of course I do. Everyone here at the SGC knows better, General. Even Siler knows better."  
  
Unfortunately for Siler, the intercom had been switched on in General O'Neill's old office. From his position in the infirmary (he'd been injured when the gate overloaded), he heard those words. Weakly, he half-smiled. "Of course I know better." Pain slithered through his burned hand, and he winced. "I miss Janet."  
  
In the days that followed, Major Griff was promoted to Lieutenant-Colonel Griff and given command of the brand-new SG-1. Lieutenant-Colonel Feretti was recalled from Moscow and installed as head of SG-2. And a few days after, Major Charles Kawalsky appeared from another quantum universe. He was handed command of SG-4 (SG-3's Colonel Reynolds was perfectly good at his job). And the SGC was jointly commanded by the three men with General Hammond over-seeing the lot.  
  
Meanwhile, in the Pentagon, Major Davis banged his head on his desk only once every couple of hours. He was horrified to discover that he missed General O'Neill. He quickly made a date for drinks with that nice Val Cooper from Section 38.  
  
-really the end-  
  
Final note: Was this over the top? Yup. Do I care? Nope. 


End file.
